


By Birch and Primrose

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: This Spell We Cast [1]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Day One, Established Relationship, F/F, First Time, Pre-Series, TWW Valentines LemonFest 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 12:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17622656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: Ada decides to go blonde. Hecate offers her opinion on the matter.For TWW Valentine Lemon!Fest.Day One Prompt: First Time.





	By Birch and Primrose

**Author's Note:**

> Though all entries for Lemon!Fest will be put in a collection/series (This Spell We Cast), they are not always related/connected/in the same universe.  
> Each story is named after ingredients used in love spells and/or plants that symbolize an aspect of lust/love/etc. Come find me on Tumblr (@marvellouslymadmim) to see a full list of the ingredients used in the story titles, their meaning/usage, and why I chose those particular combos (list will drop around Feb 3, btw). There will also be some additions to this collection, such as moodboards, a link to a Spotify playlist based on the series, and general fangirling about all the other amazing smut that's being produced by other amazing writers.

Ada eyed her reflection with a clinical gaze, tilting her head and ruffling her fingers through her hair. It had been slightly different, when she’d tried this color via potion. Still, she liked it. She had _loved_ her original brunette tinged with auburn and how it emphasized the lightness of her eyes. She had not loved how it also accented the strands of white, making her look and feel older than her years.

 _All the women in our line have gone grey at young ages_ , Alma had sniffed. She’d very pointedly added, _Vanity is unbecoming in a witch._

For once, Ada hadn’t listened to her mother. Hadn’t cowed to the unspoken command. But it was becoming tiresome, the touch-ups, the seemingly-constant attempts to fight a losing battle against her own hair. She’d woken up this morning, realized that she would need yet another touch up before Selection Day, and on an absolute whim, had decided the best recourse was to simply go blonde. The white could blend and she could have a few more years of looking closer to the age she was, the youth she still felt in her veins. The youth that had recently been renewed with surprising force, filling her with hope and strength again.

“You know what they say,” Eugenia, her hairstylist, leaned into the mirror’s view, giving a quick conspiratorial wink. “Blondes do have more fun.”

Ada wasn’t sure how Eugenia would know, as her hair had never been a naturally occurring color in the nearly-ten years that Ada had known her. Currently, it was a lovely mint-green, curled and piled atop her head and bedecked with sprigs of lavender.

Still, Ada smiled at the familiar refrain. _Fun_ wasn’t her concern. Not having to constantly cover up the encroaching grey was.

Eugenia was smiling at her own handiwork, her hands giving Ada’s new look a good fluff, adding a hint of extra volume. She gave one last spritz of hairspray, for good measure. “Careful now. The boys’ll be falling all over themselves when you walk by.”

Now Ada had to truly laugh.

* * *

The broom ride back to the Academy helped take the edge off the curls, which were too pristine for Ada’s personal tastes. But heavens, she never really could refuse Eugenia’s desire to doll her up, even if she knew that she’d never wear her hair in whatever style the woman set it—Agatha would call it being weak, would berate her for her passiveness, for not simply refusing and demanding that Eugenia style it to her preference.

She was slowly learning not to listen to her sister, either. Maybe there were some good things in growing older.

With a small sigh of happiness, she landed on the cobblestones and immediately removed her traveling cloak. Her salon appointment had taken up most of the day, and the late afternoon sun was waning, just warm enough to still be comfortable. She could afford a leisurely stroll around the grounds, seeing as it was still a full week until Selection Day and there were no particularly pressing administrative matters to attend, but she immediately transferred to her office.

This year, she had every reason to spend every available second in the castle.

It didn’t take long before the door to her office swung open without knock or any other form of preamble. Her sister and co-headmistress strolled in, followed closely by their deputy head, who wore a slightly exasperated look (most likely due to Agatha’s lack of knocking, a complaint Hecate had voiced more than once).

They both stopped dead upon seeing Ada’s blonde hair.

“My,” Agatha recovered first, unsurprisingly. “Quite a daring departure, Ada, dear.”

It was kinder than what Ada had expected. However, her only concern was the reaction from the other woman in the room. Hecate’s eyes were still large, eyebrows practically melding with her hairline.

“I suppose we no longer need to ask where you’ve been,” Agatha pressed her lips into a thin line that could be interpreted as amusement or aggravation. Even for Ada, sometimes it was hard to read. With a flick of her wrist, Agatha added, “Miss Hardbroom has been _most_ anxious about your sudden disappearance.”

There was an insinuation in the tone that wasn’t missed by anyone, but no one addressed it.

“Well, as you can see, I’m alive and well,” Ada held her hands open and rose from her desk chair, as if presenting herself for inspection. She felt a stab of guilt for not telling Hecate, but it had been an impulse decision, and Eugenia had thankfully had an opening for that very morning, so Ada had simply done it. She’d actually left a note for Hecate, telling her that she would be out for the day, but apparently it had been too vague to truly assuage any fears she might have (in Ada’s defense, her deputy headmistress had _a lot_ of fears to assuage).

“Yes,” Agatha didn’t seem particularly pleased by the statement. “Perhaps next time you could tell us before running off to play makeover?”

So Agatha had been worried, too. Not that she’d ever admit it. But the harsher she was in her words, the more emotional she was underneath them. Ada merely smiled again and nodded in agreement. With a roll of her eyes, Agatha transferred away.

Hecate stayed. Her eyes still had not returned to normal size. It wasn’t exactly the reaction Ada had been hoping for.

“Well?” Ada asked, taking a small breath. She couldn’t stop the way her voice softened, the way it always did when they were alone.

Hecate took a single step forward, hand coming up and suddenly snapping into a fist, as if she’d physically pulled back whatever words she was going to say.

“It’s…very…nice.” She was choosing her words with such extreme caution that one would think she had a knife to her throat.

Ada felt a pang of disappointment. “You don’t like it.”

“No,” Hecate took another step forward. “I…just…may I?”

Her hand was rising again, motioning vaguely to Ada’s hair. Ada moved towards her, and Hecate countered, meeting her at the corner of her desk.

“It’s just…” Hecate’s fingers delicately trilled the ends back into place. “The wind.”

Hecate was leaning in so closely that Ada could see the way her throat tightened, and she felt a small spark of understanding.

“It’s quite lovely,” Hecate decreed, ducking her head slightly and marshalling her thoughts into a more coherent state. Walking in to see her lover with an entirely new look had been a shock—but seeing Ada’s hair in a state that usually only existed inside the bedroom had been a final straw that she truly hadn’t been able to process. At least not in the company of Ada’s sister.

“Just lovely?” Ada’s tone was laced with teasing. Oh, goddess, she knew, wicked thing.

Hecate’s hand hadn’t left Ada’s hair. Instead, it slipped further in, sliding around the back of Ada’s neck and pulling her into a kiss. Ada felt the insistence in every stroke of Hecate’s tongue and her own body rippled with heat in response.

“ _Quite_ lovely,” Hecate repeated, once she broke away for air. The reverence in her tone, the same hushed and careful way she recited sacred incantations, made Ada’s blood spark with delight. This thing between them was still so new, still so full of learning, but oh how she prayed to always be able to instill this woman with such wonder and adoration.

She recalled Hecate’s initial reaction and in hindsight, realized why she’d become so stiff, so unable to speak. Her imaginings only created similar reactions in her own body and she pulled the younger woman closer, allowing her hand to slip down the curve of Hecate’s spine, grabbing the ass that was most certainly clad in lace beneath the layers of unassuming black brocade. She felt another surge of heated happiness at the thought that now, Hecate dressed for her, underneath her usual attire, chose the colors and fabrics that Ada loved most, spent her days carrying secrets that only Ada would see, later on.

“I’ve been told that blondes have more fun,” Ada informed her in mock seriousness.

Hecate hummed. “Is that so?”

“It could just be anecdotal,” Ada conceded, keeping her expression meticulously neutral.

“Someone should test that theory,” Hecate played along. Her left hand was still in Ada’s hair, fingers still rippling through the strands, as her right hand delicately traced the line of Ada’s collarbone.

“If only I knew a brilliant researcher.”

“If only,” Hecate’s lips curled into a wicked grin before swooping in for another heated kiss. There was only so long that she could feign nonchalance, when it came to Ada. She’d spent over a decade pretending not to feel this way, and now that the seal had been broken, she found it increasingly hard to pretend otherwise.

Ada’s hands went to Hecate’s hips, pulling her deputy forward as she sat on the edge of her desk, legs sliding open to wrap around Hecate’s in a move that was becoming increasingly familiar.

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Hecate pointed out. However, her tone rendered her words completely null and void. As did the fact that her hands were now planted on either side of Ada’s hips, allowing her to lean forward and place a trail of kisses down her neck.

Ada smiled to herself. For all her reputation as a strict authoritarian, Hecate Hardbroom had turned out to be quite flexible when it came to rules, Ada had learned ( _bend, never break,_ Hecate had sniffed, when Ada had pointed it out). All in all, the woman had been delightfully adventurous, much to Ada’s surprise.

But adventurous wasn’t the same as reckless. Hecate pulled back, and Ada felt the small, familiar ripple of disappointment. This wasn’t the first time they’d made out in her office—Hecate would indulge her, to a point, and then disengage, softening the loss with a lust-filled whisper of _later_.

However, the whisper didn’t come this time. Hecate’s left hand rose above her head with endearingly unnecessary theatricality as she locked the door and set several other spells, which Ada could feel settle over her skin (silencing, and some kind of warning, in case Agatha decided to pop back in, Ada guessed).

Ada’s shock was plainly written across her face, and Hecate couldn’t help but smirk. She knew that she had a reputation for being a bit of a predictable stickler, and for the most part, it was true. But there was something deliciously delightful about Ada’s reaction whenever she did something unexpected—and the fact that Ada had a very specific reaction when engaging in wayward behavior, well… _that_ certainly didn’t hurt either.

Besides, this occasion was different—the castle was practically empty due to summer holidays. No impressionable young girls to burst into the office, and hardly any staff to do likewise, either. Low risk, very high reward.

Ada recovered from her surprise quickly, one side of mouth quirking into a grin. Hecate’s eyes were dancing with such self-satisfied smugness that Ada couldn’t resist the urge to take her face in both hands and bring her into another kiss. Hecate was humming in approval, the sound vibrating all the way down to Ada’s toes, which curled in delight. Hecate’s fingertips dragged down the tops of Ada’s thighs before slipping underneath her skirt, the warm weight of her palms against Ada’s bare skin sending a heated shiver down the blonde’s spine.

Those expressive fingers flexed and pressed harder into Ada’s thighs, a massage that only ratcheted up the tension building in Ada’s body. Hecate leaned further in, the pressure of her tongue against Ada’s finding synch with the movements of her hands.

This was what had been most mind-blowing about their new intimacy, for Ada. Hecate fucked with every inch of her body, in a way that made Ada’s feel as if every inch had been truly desired and adored. It was intoxicating, and addictive, and only made Ada want to give the same gift in return. She slid closer to the edge of the desk, tightening her legs around Hecate once more, her right hand slipping around Hecate’s neck as her left hand wandered the smoothness between Hecate’s shoulder blades, relishing the tautness she found there, the desire she felt thrumming beneath the fabric.

Hecate could feel the roll of Ada’s hips, the involuntary way her body sought to find synch with Hecate’s movements, and she felt another thrill of delight. She held back a laugh at the blonde’s lack of subtlety—Ada kept shifting closer, silently begging for Hecate’s hands to move further up. Ada could never be classified as demanding, but she was certainly always eager for more of Hecate and never shy to show that eagerness. It was both comforting and overwhelming. Comforting because Hecate had never been one for half-measures and she felt, perhaps for the first time, truly safe in expressing her own emotions and desires, knowing they’d be met with equal force. Overwhelming because Hecate had never been so well-matched in that regard, and after a lifetime of giving, it was hard to learn to receive. But Hecate Hardbroom had never been one to shy away from a challenge—particularly one that was so wonderfully rewarding.

With taunting slowness, Hecate’s hands were moving up Ada’s thighs, fingernails dragging across heated flesh and sending out sparks in their wake. She felt Ada shiver against her lips and she let out a low hum of approval in response. Her right hand kept moving, slipping between Ada’s legs and stroking her clit through the already-soaked strip of lace.

Ada’s head snapped back in response and she hissed at the pressure of Hecate’s fingers, the heat in her blood skyrocketing at that simple touch.

This movement gave Hecate better access to Ada’s neck, which she gladly took, grinning as she kissed and sucked her way back down to Ada’s collarbone. Ada was panting now, shifting her hips, wanting more. Hecate, never one to deny the woman, pushed aside the barrier of fabric and sank her fingers inside the warm wetness.

Ada gave a strangled cry of relief, hands desperately clutching at Hecate again, pulling her into another kiss to muffle the sounds she couldn’t stop herself from making, the moans that Hecate drew out of her with every stroke of her fingers. She felt the shakiness of Hecate’s breaths, knew that the woman just as affected as she was—Hecate had expressed her love for all the sounds Ada made many times over the past few weeks, and now the blonde was well aware of exactly how to make her deputy headmistress crumble.

Hecate’s strokes became harsher, more insistent. Her left hand dug into Ada’s hip, pushing her further into the desk, holding her down with a possessiveness that made Ada’s head spin with another rush of desire. Fire and blood roared in her ears as the tension burned through her hips and spread across her skin like lightning.

The younger witch gave another hum of approval when Ada tightened around her fingers. She never eased her pace, even after Ada cried out and shuddered around her.

“We’re not done yet,” she broke away from another kiss to whisper, her voice ragged from her own heavy breathing. “I take my research _very_ seriously, Miss Cackle.”

Ada gave a breathless laugh that devolved into a whimper as the tension recoiled in her hips again, dancing a line between pleasure and pain as Hecate’s thumb continued thrumming against her overly-sensitive clit. Hecate’s hand left her hip, letting Ada rise up and chase the feeling with her own movements, letting her pull back when needed, letting her dictate the pressure. Ada was whining now, she knew it and she couldn’t stop herself, so close to an edge that promised absolute shattering.

Hecate’s free hand was back in Ada’s hair, bringing their mouths back together with searing insistency. Her lips telegraphed the same message as her fingers, rocking and curling inside Ada: _come for me, one more time, just come for me._

“Almost there,” Hecate assured her, as if Ada wasn’t aware of the sensations building in her own body (though, truly, Ada was reaching the point where she began to feel as if she were floating, swept away on a sea of adrenaline and heightened sensation).

Ada was making the most delicious noises, and Hecate moved her mouth lower, relishing the way Ada’s throat vibrated beneath her tongue and teeth. Ada’s hands were planted behind her, lifting her hips off the desk entirely, every muscle as taut as a bowstring. Hecate was caught between a desire to make the moment last forever and a hunger to make this woman come completely undone.

Hecate’s hand returned to Ada’s hip, this time supporting her rather than holding her down, her strokes coming faster, pushing Ada closer to the edge. She felt the desperation trembling through Ada’s frame, heard it in the little huffs and whimpers she gave, felt the renewed rush of liquid heat against her fingers as she pushed harder, encouraging Ada with small sounds of her own.

This time, Ada’s entire body quaked and her arms gave out, her head sinking against the desk as her back arched and her legs tightened around Hecate. Her cry sent a bolt of heat straight through Hecate’s body, and she felt her own thighs clenching and trembling in response. Hecate rode Ada through her orgasm, finally slowing her movements before removing her fingers entirely. She let Ada take a few steadying breaths before slipping to her knees and gently widening Ada’s thighs, pulling back the lace underwear again to take a few slow, delicate strokes with her tongue.

Still splayed across her desk, Ada gave a small smile. By now, she’d learned that Hecate possessed an inability to have any single sexual interaction without tasting her—an interesting juxtaposition for a woman who didn’t have a sweet tooth, nor held an affinity for any particular type of food or drink.

Ada Cackle quite liked the idea of being Hecate’s exception.

With one last adoring squeeze on Ada’s thighs, Hecate rose, delicately wiping the sides of her mouth and drying her fingers with a magical flutter. _Prim as ever_ , Ada grinned.

“Well, Miss Cackle,” Hecate slipped back into her formal deputy headmistress tone, cocking her head to one side and making no move to help Ada (in fact, she rather liked the current view, looming over the woman spread most unceremoniously across her desk, well and truly fucked). “Did you?”

Sensing Ada’s confusion, she clarified, “Have more fun?”

A giggle burbled in Ada’s chest, tinged with more than a hint of adoration for the deliciously deadpan woman standing between her knees, acting as calm and collected as if they were simply discussing the weather.

“I don’t think a theory can be established with only one round of research,” Ada pointed out.

“True,” Hecate returned warmly, one corner of her mouth hitching into a smirk. Now she broke character, moving forward to lean over Ada, unable to stop the grin from invading her features. “I am a firm believer in thorough experimentation.”

Oh, didn’t Ada know it. The blonde merely returned the smile, reaching up to brush the single jet-black strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Anything for the sake of science.”

Hecate hummed in agreement, stepping back and offering Ada her hand. She pulled her headmistress back onto her feet, watching with smug amusement as Ada performed the necessary spells to make herself presentable again.

“Tea?” She drawled, once Ada had finished.

“Sounds lovely.”

Hecate moved across the room, where Ada’s tea service sat. Ada knew that this was part of Hecate’s seduction as well—after pushing Ada with almost merciless intensity, she would treat her with a love-infused delicacy that made her feel truly cherished and adored. With a flick of her wrist and not so much as backwards glance over her shoulder, Hecate adjusted the small pillow in Ada’s favorite chair, so that it was exactly where Ada wanted it to be when she sat down. That small attention to detail made Ada’s heart sing anew.

Ada was happily installed in her chair by the time Hecate finished making their tea. She gratefully took the cup offered, still giddy at the way that Hecate’s hand always lightly brushed over hers after she took the saucer, a small gesture of adoration that never failed to make her chest bubble with happiness.

Ada waited until Hecate took her seat before asking, in her straightest face possible, “So…I take it you don’t mind the blonde, then?”

This time, it was Hecate who burst into surprised laughter. Ada grinned in response, her heart tightening in joy at the sound and swelling with pride in her ability to inspire it.

Hecate merely hummed as she took a sip of her tea, dark eyes flicking up to meet Ada’s gaze with glittering intensity, their corners crinkling into the slightest of smirks. Ada’s delight shifted into something heavier, something warmer.

More fun, indeed.


End file.
